


Harry Potter and the Heir to the Crown

by Rahn (Rahndom)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahndom/pseuds/Rahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had only taken five years for the happiness Harry had worked so hard for to crumble at his feet. Andromeda's dead, Teddy is dying and suddenly Draco Malfoy is at his door with a revelation that will shake up everything Harry believed about the Wizarding World and its citizens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Five years.

It had only taken five years for the happiness Harry had worked so hard for to crumble at his feet.

Neville had once told him, after the end of the war and their subsequent graduation that it was only a matter of time until the last remnants of the war veterans to die out. So the next coming generations would look back and scoff in disgust over the atrocities. But never experience that same kind of fear, the same kind of urgency and hatred.

It had, of course, been the same week that Augusta Longbottom had died.

Harry  had nodded then, sympathetic, but not really understanding the importance of Neville’s words, or his wisdom, until that cloudy winter night three years later when Andromeda Tonks succumbed to her old age and left Harry, not even having finished his Auror training, the new and sole guardian of four-year old Ted Lupin.

Harry had been horrified at first, he was so young, nineteen years old and now completely responsible for a child.

He didn’t know how to be a father then.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to be a father even now, two years later when he had just managed to get Teddy to smile at him and call him ‘Harry’ and stop asking when was gramma coming home when he woke up from nightmares, because Teddy had suddenly collapsed in school, his small body shaking with the most violent convulsions and his skin had turned sallow and clammy and there was nothing no one in Saint Mungos could do and Harry felt like he was going to die.

And as such he was now, sitting by his godson’s bedside in Grimauld Place, holding his tiny hand as he shivered, having been released from the hospital with a pitying look from the healers and recommendations to contact foreign experts because whatever was hurting the child was something no healer in Britain. All they could tell was that something was over-exhausting the boy’s magical core and that it could be the sudden appearance of his metamorphomagus abilities – from his late mother – or the unfortunate infection of his father’s manifesting as he matured in his magic.

Hermione had been working after hours at the ministry, harassing the unspeakables until she had been banned from the Department of Mysteries, while Harry, for once in his life, used his name and influence, his fame, so every single healer around the world knocked on his door with a solution.

None had much luck yet.

So when he heard the knocking on his front door that sunny spring afternoon he jumped to his feet as it had become his costume for the last week, almost ripping the wooden door off its hinges and grasping the hand raised to knock once more urgently.

“Yes!” he said before he could even get a good look at the person on the other side, only to feel his body freeze the second his eyes met the silvery grey ones of the person whose hand he was now holding in his own.

“Good afternoon, Potter,” Draco Malfoy greeted, a blond eyebrow raised. “I didn’t realize you were expecting me.”

Harry blinked, instantly releasing Malfoy’s hand as if burned.

“I wasn’t,” he admitted, taking a step back. “I thought you were another healer.”

Malfoy’s face turned pale for a millisecond, his lips pursing and his eyes darting from side to side before he nodded.

“As I thought,” he muttered. “Let me in, quick, I don’t have much time.”

“What?” Harry gapped.

“Hurry up,” Malfoy whispered, his whole body tensing. “I take it Theodore Lupin is here?”

“How did you…” the other man hesitated, frowning. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Malfoy wouldn’t know Teddy was living with Harry, but then again, the blond had left Britain a few months after their graduation, his hands clenched and shoulders set back arrogantly, never to be seen or heard from again.

Until that very day.

With a roll of his pale eyes, Malfoy simply pushed the door open further with his hand and made his way inside, whispering a soft ‘let me in’, hands instantly pulling his cloak off and letting it drop to the floor as he made his way upstairs, hands quickly reaching to undo the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Which one’s Theodore’s room?” he asked, not looking back as he checked each door. Sure Harry was following him.

Which he was, of course.

“Third to the right,” Harry replied instantly, instinctively. “But Malfoy, what…”

Malfoy ignored him then, pushing the door open and rushing to the child’s bed, reaching for Teddy’s hand and tightly holding it in his own. Pale, slender lips whispering a soft incantation in a language that did not resemble anything Harry had ever heard which made a soft glow envelop them both before fading inside Teddy.

“It seems I got here in the nick of time,” the blond whispered, frowning. “Two more days and I would have been too late.”

Harry stood by the doorway, eyes wide, breath ragged, ready to demand answers from the blond when he noticed how Teddy’s tiny chest stopped convulsing and his breathing grew even.

He looked calm for the first time in a month.

“How…” he asked, approaching them.

Malfoy looked tired, Harry could see now, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, lips dry. As if he had ran the whole way from Malfoy Manor.

“When did he fall ill?” he asked, eyes determinedly set on the now sleeping child. “A month ago? Two?”

“Two and a week,” Harry replied, entering the room at last when he heard Malfoy whisper a soft ‘fuck’. “Malfoy, what the hell did you do? How did you know?”

“I wasn’t sure I had felt it right, or I would have come sooner,” the blond whispered. “This spell was never meant to touch him. We will need to move fast, take him out of here.”

“Malfoy, you better start making sense soon or I swear…”

“I’m trying to!” Malfoy interrupted. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“Start from the beginning, then!” Harry snapped, frustrated.

Malfoy lowered his face in a way that made his long blond hair fall over his eyes, his adam’s apple bobbed twice as he swallowed.

He nodded.

“Someone,” he began. “Someone wanted to take the government away from the hands of the Ministry and by doing so, connected the whole base magic of the magical community to Theodore’s magical core. He is too young however, and his body is not strong enough to withstand such power.”

Harry stared, shocked.

“You said the spell was not supposed to touch him,” he said earnestly, eyes narrowing.

“It’s because of his blood relations, that he was targeted,” Malfoy nodded. “I don’t think it was intentional, or at least I don’t want to believe it was.”

“Then who should have been targeted by the spell?” Harry asked, feeling dread pull at his stomach at the very thought. “Was it… me?”

He would never forgive himself if the answer was yes. If he was, once again, the reason someone had hurt those he loved.

Malfoy finally took his eyes off Teddy’s sleeping face and locked them with his own emerald ones, his face was solemn, aged.

“No, Potter,” he said softly. “It was me.”

Harry felt the breath leave his body.

“All this… because of you?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Centuries ago, when Hogwarts was still new, the Ministry was only an institution established by the Royal family that was to oversee the most domestic affairs of the kingdom,” he explained. “Long before it became the power hungry monster that it is today.”

“I thought the Queen and the Royal family were not magical,” Harry asked, finally allowing himself to take a seat by Teddy’s feet, afraid to touch him and dispel whatever Malfoy was doing to keep him stable.

“They are not,” Malfoy nodded. “Not anymore at least. Then again, crown has changed hands a lot in the last thousand years.”

“Then…”

“There is a spell, a really old one, that can only be casted when at least half of the population is unsatisfied with the elected government,” Malfoy continued to whisper, as if each word hurt his throat. “It ties the magical core of the most suitable magical heir to the land and spreads its essence throughout each and all citizens, looking for their unconscious preference until a consensus can be reached, which usually takes up to four to six months, as our community is rather large. If the majority of the population decides they’d rather side with the Ministry, the spell stops and awaits for another time it is needed.”

Harry swallowed, the knot in his stomach tightening at the implications.

“And if the majority decides they don’t want to follow the Ministry?” he asked, his own voice going soft.

“Then the Ministry loses its absolute power, and the heir becomes King or Queen of magical Britain.”

Silence fell between them for a moment as Harry tried to absorb Malfoy’s explanation. The implications of what was happening, the sole reason his godson, his only remaining family almost died.

Someone, out there, had been selfish enough to cast a spell without even knowing the consequences, just because the Ministry was unpopular?

“You said Teddy got targeted because of his blood relations,” he mused outloud after a few minute. “So he has the blood of the closest heir?”

“In a way,” Malfoy replied, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s one of the reasons why we Purebloods are so obsessed with keeping our lines pure, to be honest. We need to know who is related to whom in order to keep our families protected, and be prepared in case this spell was ever casted, of course, us of the families involved are not permitted to cast it ourselves, so you can take most of the ancient noble houses out of your list of suspects.”

Harry nodded then, sighing. Trust Malfoy to know he was going to get to the bottom of the matter.

He didn’t really care about the Ministry, since it all sounded rather fair if the majority of the wizarding population got to choose, but the asshole who had dared to hurt his godchild, that bastard was going down.

“I’ll need a list of all the families that knew the Black family was the closest to the royal family,” he said, hands clenching when Malfoy simply chuckled.

“You’ll need to start looking for a half-blood or a muggleborn, Potter,” Draco said, shrugging. “No pureblooded family would dare the risk to cast this spell.”

“How can you be so sure?” Harry snapped.

Malfoy scoffed.

“Because no light or dark family would risk having a Malfoy as their King, not after the war,” he said simply, his eyes slowly returning to Teddy’s face. “The closest family with blood relations to the royals, is not the Black Family. It’s the Malfoys.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Then… why Teddy?” he asked.

Malfoy snorted, his eyes downcast.

“Because there is no other Malfoy left. If Father was alive, the spell would have targeted him, and me by default as his heir,” the blond sighed. “As I am the only Malfoy alive, and was not in the territory as this spell was cast, the magic needed to find my closest blood relative. My mother’s grandnephew.”

“Teddy,” Harry nodded. “As he is Andromeda’s grandson.”

“Exactly.”

“Then the suspect could be a pureblood,” Harry mused. “You were not in Britain, and everyone knew it. Someone with enough knowledge could surmise Teddy would be targeted in your absence, and maybe that’s what they wanted.”

Malfoy shook his head.

“All purebloods know what would happen if a child was involved. We do not sacrifice young blood, it is a sin against magic,” he said. “Furthermore, there would be only two possible outcomes, and no pureblood would accept them.”

“Which are?” Harry pushed.

Draco sighed.

“One,” he whispered. “Once my closest heir died, the magic jumped the bloodlines to my new closest living relative, who happens to be one Professor Neville Longbottom.”

“Neville?”

“He is my third or fourth cousin, or so I think,” Draco nodded. “His great granduncle was my great-great grandfather’s cousin.”

“And the other option?” Harry asked.

Draco hesitated for a moment, his lips pursed.

“If Theodore survived the magical onslaught,” he shrugged. “The crown would be passed to his guardians to hold until he was of age. Which would make _you_ King in his stead.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened.

“He is six years old, and I was not considered a part of the British society by law,” Malfoy explained.

Harry nodded, remembering how he had overheard Ron talking to his older brother Bill about the end of Malfoy’s parole one Christmas dinner. How Malfoy Manor had closed its doors to any outsider in absence of its Lord and Master and the dark magic that could be stagnating and rotting inside. Bill had nodded and replied that they only needed to wait five years, four months, three weeks and two days for Malfoy to set roots in Europe, that way the magic would recognize that Malfoy was renouncing his British roots and accepting foreign ones, which in turn would revoke his citizenship and open the Manor to the government.

“I thought your citizenship had been revoked,” he said, tilting his head.

“So did I,” Malfoy shook his head. “I received an owl from the Ministry stating that all my rights to Malfoy Manor were to expire so I had 24 hours to retrieve all assets I wanted to preserve to myself – prior Ministry approval, of course – before the house was taken from my hands and all its magic stripped.”

“And was the Manor open?” Harry asked, blinking.

Malfoy shrugged.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Before I could portkey to the Manor I was intercepted by Chief Goblin Farrhogk, of Gringotts who was quite aggressively upset that I was moving the Malfoy vaults out of the bank. He literally kidnapped me and apparated me to his private office in Gringotts.”

“And were you? Moving the vaults I mean?” Harry said.

“Not on my accord,” Draco sighed. “It’s standard procedure that once a wizard renounces his citizenship, all his assets are moved to their new country of origin – not counting a hefty transfer fee for the Ministry, of course.”

“So, if the Malfoy vaults are still in Gringotts,” Harry frowned. “You are still a British citizen.”

Draco nodded.

“Apparently the quill pusher that sent me my notification was a little bit two eager,” he said. “They sent it a month before the deadline. Most likely believing the owl would take a lot longer to reach me than it did.”

Harry’s frown deepened.

“So, they send you a letter believing you are no longer part of the community, you come back believing the same but the Goblins tell you otherwise and then you felt Teddy was ill,” he surmised.

 “As soon as I realized I still had time to reclaim my heirlooms without the Ministry’s interference,” Draco said simply. “When I left for Germany, I had not been able to take anything magical with me due to me being on Parole, but now… I immediately asked Chieftain Farrhogk to retrieve the Malfoy Ring from the Main Vault where it must have appeared after my Father’s death.”

The blond paused, a bitter curl on his lips as he, most likely, remembered how he had been forbidden to attend both his parent’s funerals – if they even had one, Harry wasn’t sure.

“As soon as I said the incantation and slipped the ring on, I felt the weight of Magic’s displeasure and how it was tugging me here,” he continued. “I had been taught by my father to recognize the signs of the spell, a thousand little voices asking questions in the back of my head, all at once, and from then it didn’t take me long to assume what had happened.”

Harry nodded once more.

“Even if it is a ridiculous coincidence,” he whispered. “I’m thankful you came and saved Teddy’s life.”

Draco let out a soft snort.

“You won’t be so happy for long, I’m afraid,” he said. “We need to move from here, to a place no one in the Ministry, no one in Wizarding Britain knows.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m literally telling magic I am back to take the place it requires of me,” Malfoy scowled. “It will send a broadcast of subconscious relief through the population. The Ministry will know.”

“And?” Harry scowled back.

“Do you really think it will take them long to put two and two together and know I’m back?” Draco hissed. “Do you think they’ll just sit there, twiddling their thumbs as they await the consensus? They’ll come after me and my heir! They’ll do their damned best so no King rises to stop them.”

“That wouldn’t happen!” Harry protested. “Kingsley would never!”

Malfoy locked his cold silvery eyes with his.

“Maybe the Minister himself wouldn’t, I don’t know him,” he admitted. “But what about one of his guards, an Auror gone rouge, an unspeakable with an agenda! One of his fucking undersecretaries? Can you honestly trust each and every one of them with your godson’s safety? Because they won’t just come for me, they’ll come for him too!”

Harry paled, remembering Umbridge’s high-pitched giggles, Robarb’s sneering comments whenever Parkinson passed them on her way to the Recreation and Sport’s department on how Slytherins should all be slayed for the greater good.

No matter how much he wished otherwise, he knew that old prejudice was still inside people’s hearts, that power was corruptive and many could fall prey to it.

He could easily imagine a lowly ministry employee, a clerk even, feeling the ‘broadcast’ and thinking that if he could get rid of Malfoy and Teddy, he or someone he loved could be next in line to the throne. Following old pureblood genealogy had never been his forte, yes, but it had never been particularly difficult either.

“No, I can’t,” he whispered finally. “We need to move then.”

“Do you have any safehouses?” Draco whispered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “I’m afraid my properties would be the first they would search for.”

“Not that I know of, not any that are hidden,” Harry replied, shoulders slumping. “I’m an Auror, after all.”

“Not for long if they find you with me,” Draco mumbled. “Then again, the Ministry must know my heir is your godson and will be knocking on the door within minutes.”

“The Weasleys would…”

“Definitely not,” Draco snapped. “There are too many and… everyone knows they are your family.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Harry snapped, losing his patience.

Draco seemed thoughtful for a moment, his eyes downcast, dulled. Harry took that moment to examine him maybe for the first time since he had arrived at Grimauld Place. Malfoy’s hair was long now, as long a Lucius had once worn it – maybe because his father had worn it like that once? – and it fell in gently over his shoulders, spilling like liquid silk around him. His eyes had lost most of their blue speckles and had turned completely grey, metallic in a way, unearthly.

He had grown taller – they all had, really – but while Harry’s training had made him muscled, broadened his shoulders, Draco had grown lankier, his limbs slender, his fingers long.

He reminded him of…

“Snape,” he whispered, unaware of himself.

Malfoy’s eyes widened.

“What?” he asked.

“You look like Snape now,” Harry said, flushing. “You are skinnier, lankier… like Snape.”

Malfoy’s lips thinned.

“I am a Potion Master,” he whispered.  

Harry nodded, unsure.

They remained in silence for another moment, each deep in thought.

“Snape…” Malfoy whispered, awed. “That’s it! Snape!”

“What?” Harry asked.

“I can’t move from here until the magic settles,” he urged. “But you can, I need you to go to the chimney and call out Chief Farrhogk at Gringotts. There might be a place we can hide in.”

“What?” Harry stared at him, eyes wide.

“I said go! Hurry up!” Malfoy snarled, body curling protectively over Teddy’s.

Harry nodded.

Draco watched him go towards the fireplace, his shoulders squared and tense.

“Let’s hope you kept your promise, you old bat..” he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

_Draco was sitting on his favorite chair in the drawing room, eyes lost to the outside and the falling rain, knees crashing against eachother, hands curled uselessly, trembling, unable to hold the most minute of things._

_Cruciatus could do that to a person._

_He could ask for a nerve-strengthening potion to stop the shaking – probably should before the damage was irreparable – but the thought of going to Snape, submitting himself to the man’s disdain._

_He could order one, too._

_He knew there were some people loyal to his family that could discreetly procure a potion for him._

_He shook his head._

_“Don’t call attention to yourself,” he whispered, repeating the words his father had whispered in his ear the moment he set foot on the Manor. “Don’t stand out, be as mediocre as possible.”_

_“Interesting philosophy,” a voice sneered behind him, making Draco’s shoulders tense, his shaking increase._

_“P-professor Snape,” he whispered, feeling his lips dry, his throat close._

_“Your father asked me to bring you a potion,” the man scoffed, offering him the vial and then narrowing his eyes when he noticed Draco’s trembling hands would not be able to hold it. “Stupid child.”_

_He reached roughly, pulling Draco’s head back by the hair and thrusting the glass vial against his lips, ignoring the way the boy choked on the potion and slowly swallowed the thick concoction._

_He released the boy’s pale hair as he surged forwards, hands trembling against his chest, back heaving in nausea, chapped lips pulled back as he coughed._

_“Don’t vomit,” he said dispassionately, shaking his head._

_Draco managed to nod, his teeth sinking onto his bottom lip as he tried to keep the foul liquid down, tears clogging on his eyelashes._

_Outside the rain grew stronger, the wind punishing the glass on the windows and slamming leaves violently against them._

_Snape’s eyes widened._

_“Merlin,” he whispered. “It is true.”_

_Draco’s eyes widened as well as he tried to curl his body onto itself, to make himself as small as possible._

_Snape followed him, eyes full of curiosity, as if Draco was a bug that needed to be studied, stripped for parts and catalogued._

_“Your father said he secretly renounced his right in your favor,” the man continued, an eyebrow raised. “What does it mean for you two, I wonder?”_

_Draco’s eyes met Snape’s, his lips pursing softly._

_He sighed._

_“It means he is now most likely to die in this war than I,” he whispered, shaking his head. “As the heir, his life is the most important to the land, if he renounces his right, the title is passed down to me with all the luck and protection that the land had provided for him.”_

_Snape stared._

_“He is passing down his luck to you,” he said._

_Draco nodded._

_Snape turned to stare at the window, something Draco couldn’t decipher seemed to swirl in his eyes and then be swallowed by the darkness of his pupils. Draco remembered the first time he had met the man, when he was only a child, and how strong and powerful he had looked to his childish mind. How impressive._

_He had loved Severus Snape then._

_He had wanted to be just like him._

_“Your mother made me promise I would protect you,” Snape said suddenly, shaking his head. “And your father is renouncing to his only protection for you.”_

_“You don’t have to rub it in,” Draco whispered, bottom lip trembling almost imperceptibly._

_Snape sighed, grasping the boy’s still trembling hand, studying his fingers, his nails._

_“You always had a talent in my classroom,” he said. Draco blinked._

_“I… I’ve always found the potion making process soothing,” he admitted, his cheeks coloring._

_Snape nodded, standing._

_“Come along then,” he said, shaking invisible dust from his black robes._

_Draco stared, wide eyed._

_“What?” he whispered._

_“Your father has provided a way for you to survive this war,” the man replied, face expressionless, eyes melancholic. “I will make sure to make your survive the aftermath.”_

_Confused, but feeling oddly reassured, Draco himself stood, his unstable knees slowly bringing him to follow his former professor._

_“You will start your apprenticeship with me, and I will leave preparations so you can continue it if I don’t make it, McGonagall will see to it,” Snape said as he started walking, his back straight, his pose regal, his steps – however – slow and measured._

_Draco flushed._

_“I… don’t understand.”_

_Snape’s lips curled._

_“You will survive this war, Young Mister Malfoy, your parents and I will make sure of it,” he sneered. “You will however, need a career in case you do not become King. And that is what I am going to provide you with. You will also stand out less in my lab than in this room.”_

_Draco stared at the man’s back, his greasy hair, and sneering lips, his aged eyes._

_He felt a tear slide down his cheek._

_“Yes sir,” he whispered, following him._

_*****_

Severus Snape had never been a kind man, Draco knew. The depths of the man’s sorrow, of his secrets, had swallowed up whatever remained of the man’s human empathy. And Draco respected that. He respected his former mentor in ways that only those scarred by their burdens would be able to understand eachother.

He had, however, wondered whether Professor Snape understood him as well.

Whether the man had ever felt an ounce of respect for him.

Now he held the answers in his hands.

And it hurt him.

“As you can see, Your Highness,” Chieftain Farrhogk said, holding parchment after parchment in his ancient hands. “Mister Snape was as meticulous in his preparations for his demise as he was with his normal life.”

Draco nodded, his throat tight, his hair falling over his eyes as he read letters and dispositions and documents that were handed to him, all neatly tied around a short missive.

To the point.

Just like the man had liked them.

**_‘As I leave no children in this earth, it is my will that my apprentice, Mr. Draconis Lucien Malfoy inherits all that once belonged to me, along with my expertise and research, as I am sure it will serve his surprisingly incommensurable talents greatly to pursue the dreams he so childishly forged for himself._ **

**_Severus T. Snape.’_ **

Behind him, Harry was reading the letter over and over, a frown on his face that reflected his disbelief greatly.

Theoretically Snape was insulting him.

Then again, he was also calling him his talented apprentice.

And also giving him his blessing to pursue a career in potion-making.

Not because he needed to hide from the public eye.

Not because there was nothing left for him.

He called Draco’s career a childish dream.

Which was Snape’s-speak to: You can be happy here.

He felt like crying.

“I did try to claim Professor Snape’s journals from Hogwarts after the war,” he whispered, the fingers of his free hand gently touching each piece of parchment the goblin laid on the table before him. “It did not go so well.”

Chieftain Farrhogk scowled.

Harry stared.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Draco sighed.

“Apparently Professor Slughorn did not agree that such important research would serve its purpose with such a dark wizard as myself, and they would most likely be safer at Hogwarts where the students would take advantage of Severus’ brilliant mind,” he explained. “Headmistress McGonagall was still recuperating in St Mungos at the time so he was the highest authority around.”

“You should have come to us, Young Man,” the goblin growled. “We Goblins do not appreciate when wizards try to mess with the contracts we acquire. Professor Severus Snape left those journals for you, and they should have been handed to you. We were paid to oversee the completion of this contract.”

Draco shook his head.

“Not worth the fight,” he said simply. “Not worth such a small, prejudiced man.”

Farrhogk scoffed.

“We shall see your inheritance restored in its entirety as soon as you see fit,” he bowed, eyes narrowed.

Draco sighed.

“I was just actually aiming for the cottage, Chieftain,” Draco whispered, his eyes apologetic. “I’m afraid my heir and I will need to be moving soon and I had the hope my old mentor had left me his lab.”

Harry nodded, impressed.

Snape’s properties were certainly a place no one in the Ministry would try to look for Harry, and thus, Teddy, and they could easily establish a perimeter around the property, even a fidelus if he was careful enough.

For the first time since Teddy had fallen ill he felt hopeful, animated.

Chieftain Farrhogk blinked.

“Cottage, Your Highness?” he asked, checking all the paperwork. “I see no cottage within Mr. Snape’s properties.”

Draco blinked back, confused.

“I was referring to his house?” he inquired. “Spinner’s End? He did  mention it once or twice, mostly as a way to exemplify a proper potion lab.”

Farrhogk stared.

“Oh, of course,” he said, producing an ancient piece of parchment. “The Honorable Prince House.”

Draco and Harry shared a look.

The property, the parchment specified, was not a cottage by any stretch of the imagination. It was bigger than Grimauld Place, sporting ten bedrooms, but smaller than Malfoy Manor. The Prince family crest sported proudly on each paragraph as all the land was accounted for.

Harry eyed Draco, an eyebrow raised.

Draco’s lips curled into a forlorn smile.

“In my defense,” he said. “He made it sound a lot smaller.”

“So, we are moving there?” Harry asked, staring at the map of the grounds. He could work with such large land, it would take him longer than expected, but he could work with it.

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “Please go and pack as fast as you can, everything and anything you don’t want any hostile forces to touch must go with you.”

The Auror nodded.

“I’ll go grab Teddy’s things as well,” he said, dashing for the stairs.

Draco watched him go, his small smile falling from his lips.

“How long do you have, Your Highness?” the goblin asked suddenly, his dark eyes solemn.

Draco thought about it for a moment.

“Minutes, most likely, not much,” he replied. “You knew this was going to happen.”

Farrhogk nodded.

“The moment you set foot on the territory the land sang its relief,” he admitted. “Most magical creatures in Britain felt your arrival.”

The blond sighed once more, he seemed to be doing it a lot as of late.

“Moreso,” Farrhogk continued. “I must offer the aid of the Goblin Horde in your future endeavors, should you need our protection, Your Highness.”

Draco snorted.

“It is not a certainty I will become King, Chieftain Farrhogk,” he warned, blinking when the goblin shrugged stocky shoulders. “The Land and its People will make the choice, not you or I.”

“You will, Your Highness, for this land needs your guidance,” he said with certainty that made Draco envious for a moment. “Our people already accepted you as the King, and I’m sure more and more clans will join our decision as the days pass. The Land knows the truth of your heart and welcomes it. It is only a matter of time before you are called to your throne.”

Draco hated himself a little then, and was sure his father would so disapprove of his lack of self-control, but he was moved and the color rising to his face was proof enough to make the goblin smirk at him.

“I appreciate your faith in my abilities, Chieftain Farrhogk,” he whispered. “And my blood and I welcome the aid of the Great Goblin Hordes. May our alliance shape this world for the better in the centuries to come.”

Farrhogk nodded, bowing lightly in front of the young man.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he whispered.

Draco smiled.

“As it is I must ask for your help in some rather unfortunate matters,” he said, eyeing the parchments detailing his apparently new inheritance. “I will require for a goblin to act as my, shall we say, personal barrister, since I believe the one the Malfoy family employed is no longer accepting cases in my name. There are some contracts in my family line that I am afraid will need to be dissolved before the end of the month.”

Farrhogk raised a bushy eyebrow.

“I will take these matters myself,” he promised, producing a golden quill and expensive parchment from his coat-pocket.

Draco’s eyes widened.

“Chieftain,” he admonished. “I cannot presume! I’m sure your obligations to your clan are keeping you busy enough and…”

“Nonsense, Your Highness,” the goblin scoffed, waving his hand. “As Chieftain, it is my duty to ensure our new-formed alliance is kept in perfect health, therefore all matters you cannot tend to yourself will be ours for the moment.”

The blond wizard nodded, is smile shy.

“I’m honored,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I will write a list of the contracts and blood alliances that I need broken, also, feel free to take as much gold from the third vault as necessary to pay restitution to the families affected.”

“It will be done as you order, Your Highness,” Farrhogk nodded. “Do we have your permission to seek restitution in your stead as well? From what I remember some contracts your family holds with ancient families were not honored as well. The gold from those restitutions would serve your purposes well.”

Draco opened his lips to refuse, feeling it would only hurt his cause if he started making enemies before the spell was ever done. But Theodore’s fingers tightened softly against his own, his tiny round face scrunched in pain before he let out a soft exhalation.

He nodded.

“Do as you see fit,” he said. “But also be fair.”

The goblin nodded.

Draco grasped the golden quill that was offered to him, frowning as he tried to write the list as neatly as he could with his left hand. He could try to switch hands for a second, to release Theodore’s hand and do so, but he did not dare, frightened that the child could be harmed in his stead.

“I apologize for my penmanship,” he whispered, struggling with the ink and grateful when Farrhogk only waved a hand in dismissal.

Most of the names in his list were, of course, business associates of the Malfoys. People who had invested in their ventures and was still, to this day, expecting their money and prestige. Some where even the people who had believed in him back in Munich, the ones who had backed is small potion shop for a ridiculously small margin of profit.

He made sure to put a mark under their names for a special compensation, they deserved a reward for their selflessness.

The last name was half a betrayal to his family and half a betrayal to one of his oldest friends.

He had not seen Astoria Greengrass in years, even before the war she had been pulled from Hogwarts and had resumed her studies in France, or so he had heard. But in his mind she was still that blonde little girl with stars in her eyes that stared at him as if he was the sun, that held his hand when she was scared and hid behind him when her sister was particularly mean.

They had both known they were going to be married one day and had accepted it cordially.

Or maybe he had accepted it cordially while she filled her pure heart with little girl dreams and planned for a future of them both.

He idly remembered fretting in his fifth year that he did not know how to tell her that he’d rather have Zabini in his bed than her, and dreading her heartbroken expression as she realized her fairy tale prince would never love her as she loved him.

He shook his head.

It was better this way, he told himself.

This way Astoria would forever think he had broken their marriage contract as to keep her away from the small underground war that could possibly explode all over Britain instead of him not being able to love her like she deserved.

She might forgive him one day.

He hoped.

“These are the most urgent ones, Farrhogk,” he said at last, handing the goblin his sloppily written list. “Please make sure to tell Miss Greengrass that I am sorry.”

The goblin nodded, pocketing the parchment with utmost care.

“I shall contact you as soon as I am done,” he swore, a hand on his chest as he stood.

“Thank you,” Draco said. “Also, if anyone has something to say about the contracts, please inform them that all communications will be through you, or a goblin you appoint. No one is to contact me or my kin directly until the spell’s resolution.”

Farrhogk nodded.

“In case of an emergency,” he inquired.

The blond smiled.

“I will leave that to your judgment,” he replied. “And of course, warn your clan that the Ministry will be at your door today, if they are not already there.”

Chieftain Farrhogk of Gringotts bowed once more, grinning, his chest puffing with the pride of knowing himself holder of the Malfoy Prince’s trust, before he started walking towards the fireplace, a whispered goodbye was the last thing Draco heard as the creature disappeared in the flames.

“You are rather good at this,” Harry murmured as he made his way downstairs, his pockets stuffed to the brink with shrunk boxes and miniature trunks.

“That was fast,” Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

“You said I had to be quick,” Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“That was not a question,” the blond snorted. “And there’s nothing much to tell, really. I was trained from birth to act as diplomatically as possible, in case this ever happened.”

Harry scowled.

“You were anything but diplomatic when we were in school.”

Draco snorted.

“Hogwarts was…” he hesitated. “Hogwarts was the one place that my Father allowed for me to indulge in childish fancies. You will need to be correct and proper at all times, he said, all childish passions will be viewed as weaknesses. So enjoy your childhood within the castle’s walls and remember them fondly.”

Harry blinked, not actually expecting such reply.

It was true Draco had been an utter prat when they were children. But up until the day war was officially declared, he would have to admit – aided with the broader perspective that he had gained in adulthood – that his former rival had just being that. A child. And as many of their peers at the time, he had acted as a boy towards another boy who he did not like.

There were no politics or hidden agendas in the way Draco Malfoy treated him at Hogwarts.

And Harry found, upon deeper inspection, that it was the main reason why he had welcomed their childhood bickering.

“That means you won’t call me out when I mess up?” he joked, running a hand through his hair.

The blond smirked.

“Oh, I can do so if you want. I am after all Professor Snape’s apprentice and I can eviscerate your misbehavior at the drop of a hat.” he mocked back. “Also, your hair is ridiculous.”

Harry knew he should be offended.

He knew he should feel anger, mistrust.

He laughed, instead.

With all this new-found knowledge Draco’s comments were rather endearing.

“It’s time,” Draco said suddenly, his smile and good humor disappearing from his frame as he tensed. “Harry, as soon as I pull my hand from Theodore’s I need you to pull him out of that bed and as far away from me as you can without leaving the room. We will need to go through the floo as quickly as possible afterwards.”

“Afterwards what…” the other man asked, his hands tensing. “What is going to happen.”

“I told you, I was telling magic I am back to take my place in the spell and that it needs to release Theodore from its hold,” the blond explained, his mouth pulled into a grim line. “Magic has accepted my apologies and will be establishing a bond with my core now. Which will broadcast my arrival to all magical population.”

Harry nodded, swallowing.

“And that means…” he began.

Malfoy sighed.

“It means it will be flashy and it will be powerful,” he said, closing his eyes. “It will also have the ministry at your doorstep in a blink.”

“Okay,” Harry said, kneeling by Teddy’s side, hands ready to reach for him. “Flashy and quick, got it.”

Draco nodded, taking a deep a breath as he could, eyes tightly shut.

Harry would later describe what happened as a strange mixture of a Disney film and a horror one. Something molten and silver, not unlike liquid mercury started spreading from the middle of Malfoy’s forehead, drawing delicate patterns on his skin that seemed to pulse and beat with every breath the blond took, his skin that was already as pale as ivory seemed to shimmer and gleam like moonlight.

Malfoy gasped then, opening his eyes and Harry could now tell that Draco’s eyes now seemed otherworldly, metallic and magical, the same swirling mercury was taking over them, imbuing them with a power the other man could not, would not understand.

A strange feeling took over Harry’s chest, faint like the wings of a butterfly inside his ribcage, yet warm like summer breeze, something terribly sweet and welcoming.

He did not have to ask what it was, however, he knew it was Malfoy.

The most purest, essential core of Malfoy’s being was now presented to him.

Broadcasted into his own magical core, just as he had said.

He could tell that this same feeling was spreading to each and every magical citizen.

Malfoy bare and exposed for them to judge.

Draco raised then his hands to his face, the mercury like magic passing from his cheeks to his fingertips, gathering in his palms. Harry quickly reached for Teddy’s small body, pulling him from the bed and into his arms, stumbling as fast as he could towards the fireplace and shielding the boy’s body with his own, holding his head against his chest.

Malfoy had by now contained all the liquid magic in his hands, his pale lips moving silently to mouth words Harry couldn’t make out, before there was a soft exhalation, like a small whisper of magic.

An then the whole room was enveloped in the purest, most powerful light Harry had ever seen. What he could only imagine as a supernova growing and expanding inside his godson’s bedroom.

He closed his eyes, hiding his face in Teddy’s sweat-soaked hair, fearing for his life and the child’s while still completely aware of the tentative fluttering against his magical core.

Another soft exhalation followed the light, the faint thud of something impacting the hardwood floor.

And then the light was gone.

Harry opened his eyes, his breath ragged, his body tense.

There was no sign of what had occurred there just seconds ago.

Only he remained, Teddy still in his arms.

Malfoy’s body slumped on the ground.

“Malfoy!” he called, wanting to go and tend to him but frightened of letting Teddy’s body go. “Malfoy, are you okay?”

Malfoy’s hand twitched, his nails knocking against the floor. His eyes fluttered open and a groan of pain left his dry, chapped lips.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, unsure.

“Hurts a lot much more…” Draco panted. “Than what father described. That liar.”

Harry watched as the blond rose on shaky knees, his hands unsteady as he grasped onto the furniture to help himself up, slowly crawling towards them and the fireplace.

“We need to go now,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They’ll be here soon.”

Harry reached to grasp a fistful of floo powder, his Adams’ apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

“You go first,” he whispered, handing Teddy to the blond and then throwing the powder into the fireplace. Draco nodded, his hands careful with the child as he let himself fall into the flames.

Harry watched them go, wondering how his world had changed in the last few hours. How his perception of good and evil, duty and authority was so warped in such a short time.

He grasped more floo powder, his free hand rubbing at the center of his chest, where the butterfly of Malfoy’s essence still probed and fluttered, exposing itself to his core, offering to assuage any misgivings, any doubts or hesitance Harry had against the Malfoy heir.

There was a knock on his door.

“Auror Potter!” a voice called. “This is Auror Jenkings! I need to talk to you!”

Harry stared, shocked, because he had thought – a part of him had so ardently wanted to believe – that Malfoy had exaggerated when he said the Ministry would be on his door within seconds.

“Auror Potter, open the door!” the voice continued. “Open this door right now or you will be charged with treason!”

Harry’s teeth sunk into his lower lip, his hand tightened on his wand.

He could hear how his front door exploded and almost a dozen pair of feet rushed into his house, he could almost tell that their boots would stain the polished woodwork, that their drawn wands would cast curses and hexes that would ruin the walls.

He narrowed his eyes, wanting so much to go there and face them all, to fight this new faceless enemy who had dared to barge into his life.

He threw the floo powder into the fire instead.

“Spinner’s End,” he whispered, casting one last spell to bring the fireplace down as he passed through, his blood pumping in his ears as he realized this was his next new adventure.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Spinner’s End was, in a way, exactly what Harry had been expecting as he stumbled clumsily out of the floo. The room was dark, with no magical light and certainly no natural sunlight filtering through those sooth incrusted windows. All furniture was covered with yellowish sheets that had, most likely, being white at some point in time – save for one ornate chair that had seen better days itself, with its faded embroidery and worn velvet.

Which was where the still-sleeping Teddy was resting, his cheeks pink, his breathing even.

Malfoy, on his part, was kneeling on the floor, his fingers drawing complicated patterns on the thick film of dust that covered the wood and muttering under his breast as he let rune after rune lift from the dirt and flutter away into the outside.

“What are you doing?” he asked, shaking the sooth from his clothes and walking towards Teddy.

“Setting blood wards so no one can come around the property without my permission,” Malfoy replied, his face a complete mask of concentration.  

Once again Harry found himself speechless at the efficient way Malfoy continued to cast his wards, the precision of his movements and the calculated edge of his voice as he chanted a spell Harry had never heard before.

Now that his godson’s life did not hang on the edge, Harry could relax and observe the blond man more carefully, he found himself corrected at his comparison of Malfoy and Snape. The physical similarities ended at the slenderness of their limbs at best.

Maybe, he mused to himself, it was the way Malfoy carried himself. The way his lips wrapped around each and every word – as if weighting them all, calculating their effectiveness before releasing them to the air – how he never let his guard down completely.

He shook his head, blinking as he realized Malfoy was done with his wards and was now staring at him with curiosity.

“Is there something in my face?” he asked, a silver eyebrow raised.

“Ah,” Harry stammered. “No?”

“You haven’t stared at me like that since we were teenagers,”  Malfoy sighed, a small smile tugging his lips. “Come sit here with me? I’d like your opinion on our next step?”

“What about Teddy?” Harry asked dubiously, still letting his feet walk him towards the blond and plopping onto the floor by his side with a cough as he made dust fly around them.

Malfoy covered his mouth with his hand, coughing onto his palm and shooting him an annoyed look before shaking the dirt from his shoulders and hair.

“His core was damaged when I arrived, so I can imagine he won’t wake up for a few days,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s better to let his own magic heal the damage.”

“I’d feel better if we could have a healer check him over,” Harry scowled, his lips thinning.

“Which brings me to our next step,” Malfoy said, pulling a thin silver chain from the collar of his shirt and placing it on the floor. On it, hung four small charms, all carved in silver, precious stones coloring them to perfection, despite the fact that the thing looked old.

Far too old.

“Are those the Hogwarts’ Houses?” Harry asked, picking the ruby-incrusted charm and eyeing the lion on it. “Are we going to contact the school?”

“Not precisely,” Malfoy sighed. “From what my Father taught me, originally the houses where more of a test of abilities. You were sorted in first year and received a special education for a future career more suited to your particular skills.”

Pale, ivory fingers rested onto the amber-colored badger.

“Students sorted in Hufflepuff were selected for their loyalty and strength of character, so they made the best secret-keepers and confessors,” he explained, moving his hand towards sapphire eagle. “Ravenclaws were scholars, researchers, some even healers.”

 Harry stared.

“What about Gryffindors?” he asked.

Malfoy snorted.

“The brave? Of course they were prepared to be protectors and knights,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “And before you ask, Slytherins were the diplomats and strategists. You can imagine why being sorted was such a big deal… still is to this day.”

“But we all had the same classes at Hogwarts,” Harry argued, tilting his head. “What if a Gryffindor wanted to be a scholar or a diplomat?”

“You could choose such a career if you wanted to, I guess,” the blond said. “The house system only sorted you depending on the character that would suit you best but, of course, it all depended on your own will as well. Still, most Gryffindors now end up as Aurors and most Slytherins are politicians.”

“What happened then? A special training would have been useful during the war.”

“As you can probably imagine, the practice fell out of favor after the fall of the monarchy,” Malfoy replied, his eyes growing dull. “The Ministry made sure all students were treated equally, even if they couldn’t force the castle to stop sorting its students.”

Harry nodded, his own eyes solemn as he imagined the difference it would have made if all houses were still taught upon their special skills. From the way Malfoy talked, all students were taught from first year to act together and to appreciate the gifts their classmate had they didn’t.

All skills were necessary to form a harmonious community after all, and maybe, if they had continued such practice, many of the difference that would later on tear their world apart would have never happened.

He shook his head.

No wonder Professor Dumbledore was so adamant they listened to the Sorting Hat, all those years ago.

“So, what are these for then?” he asked, shaking his head and trying to dispel the somber mood that had fallen over them both.

Malfoy sighed.

“Theoretically speaking, and I must remind you that this is all what my Father taught me,” the man warned. “I now need to concentrate a small court, calling people to my side based on their particular strengths and abilities, which is why I can call them by the house they were sorted at Hogwarts.”

“Court…” Harry repeated incredulously.

“If I become King, by tradition I need a representative of each House at my side to help me out,” Malfoy nodded, his mouth grim. “Someone with knowledge, someone loyal, someone cunning and someone brave, to keep balance over the land and its power.”

“It makes sense,” Harry nodded, swallowing. “But you are not King yet.”

“No, so I guess I shouldn’t call full court yet but maybe…” he hesitated. “Maybe some help would be welcomed? There is only so much I can do on my own without being seen and you…”

“What’s wrong with having me around?” Harry’s scowl deepened, his shoulders tensing.

Malfoy’s cheeks colored, his eyes downcast.

“You are already my chosen Gryffindor,” he said nervously. “By going to you as soon as took over the spell I have appointed you in the eyes of magic as my Knight protector and will most likely keep you so when this is over.”

Harry gapped.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Malfoy agreed. “I think I would like to call in a Ravenclaw, someone with knowledge that can advise us and maybe a Slytherin that can predict the movements of the Ministry while we hide here.”

Harry didn’t know what to feel about a Slytherin so close when the stakes were so high. He didn’t know any of them save from Malfoy himself and his former cronies, and with one dead – he was loath to admit he didn’t even remember which one of them had died that day at the Room of Requirements – and the other that had never seemed to him as intelligent or cunning, he didn’t know whether he could trust them with Malfoy’s safety, much less Teddy’s.

As for the Ravenclaw…

“We could call Hermione in,” he said, his thumb stroking the lion still in his hand. “She is intelligent, has access to vast amount of information on her own and she also works at the Ministry, so she could report anything suspicious without –“

“Definitely not,” Malfoy interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “I told you, no muggleborns or halfbloods.”

“What?” Harry snapped, shocked. “She’s one of my best friends! I would trust her with my life! And Teddy’s!”

“Well, I don’t!” Malfoy snapped back. “At this time, I’m sorry but I’d rather only have purebloods around…”

“I can’t believe after all these years you are still the same bigoted bastard!”

“It’s not prejudice!” Malfoy defended himself, his hands clenching. “I need people around that have grown with tradition all their lives! It will be second nature to them and your friend Granger did not grow knowing this could happen! She would need to be taught!”

“You are already teaching me!” Harry protested, rising to his feet. “What’s one more person!”

“I said no!” Malfoy hissed. “I forbid you from contacting her until further notice, Potter, that’s an order!”

Silence fell between them as Malfoy’s eyes widened and his hand rose to cover his mouth in shock and Harry felt something heavy and warm surround him like a blanket, fastening around his throat and then sinking into his skin.

“What the…” he said, startled. “What the fuck did you do to me!?”

“I’m sorry!” Malfoy said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to!”

“What… did you do…” Harry hissed again, his fist slamming against a table, making the blond flinch.

“You accepted my magic,” Malfoy said softly, his face lowering in shame. “By all intends and purposes I am your King…”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“So you can order me around?” he snarled.

“I never meant to…” Malfoy cleared his throat. “I swore to my Father I would not use that power unless necessary, but you have to understand! Even a little comment reaching the ears of your muggleborn friends could put us all in danger and…”

Malfoy never finished his explanation, however, because Harry kicked the table he had already hit against a wall and stormed out of the house into the garden with a loud snarl of: “Fuck you, Malfoy!” and a wave of his wand.

The blond continued to kneel on the floor, his eyes wide.

Harry broke through the door into the garden outside, slamming everything in his path and ignoring the loud slam of the wood against the wall as he fumed and cursed outloud.

How had he been so stupid!

Of course there had to be something and he had been too rash, too quick to fall into Malfoy’s ridiculous words and traditions.

After all these years Malfoy was still a snake and a bigot, still prejudiced against muggleborns. Despite everything they had been through, despite the war and the suffering Malfoy had not learned a thing!

And now Harry had fallen straight into his trap.

Was now subservient to his order like a marionette.

He fell to his knees in the grass with a roar of impotence.

The magic – _Malfoy’s Magic –_ was still around him, censoring his words, resting under his skin like shackles that marked him as the slave he now was.

“Damn it!” he screamed, sinking his fists on the earth once, twice. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”

What else was Malfoy going to make him do next?

“Oh, my,” a voice called from behind him. A voice so soft and familiar that it gave Harry a pause. “What has the poor garden done to you, Harry?”

“Luna?” he asked, turning towards the woman slowly approaching him on bare feet. “What are you doing here?”

The blonde woman stared at him for a moment with her usual smile, before approaching him once more and slowly lowering herself to the ground.

“His Highness called me,” she explained, gently picking Harry’s right hand in hers and examining his damaged knuckles. “And he told me you might be in need of a friendly face around.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped.

“He’s got you too,” he said bitterly. “He trapped you too.”

Luna blinked, her bright blue eyes full of confusion.

“Trapped?” she asked. “Goodness no! His Highness called and I decided to come on my own will. I think it’s quite flattering that he thought me useful.”

“You don’t understand, Luna,” Harry argued. “You have no idea what he’s done!”

The woman tilted her head.

“Is this because he forbid you from talking to Hermione?” she said. “A little bit extreme if you ask me, but I’m sure he had his reasons. Draco has always been rather cunning.”

“He shackled me, Luna, he’s still the same prejudiced prat and I fell for it.”

Luna stared at him for a moment in silence, her head still tilted to the side, as if the new perspective might offer her some unseen insight.

“Maybe if you saw the issue from his point of view?” she inquired, her hands brushing the dirt and grass from his. “He doesn’t know Hermione like you and I. He might feel like she would not be as useful?”

“He knows she is my friend! One of my most trusted ones!” Harry snapped, pulling his hand from Luna’s. “The only thing he said over and over is that he couldn’t trust her because she’s a muggleborn! All he cared about was her blood.”

Luna nodded, not affected by Harry’s violence.

“Well, if I was Draco, which I’m not, I would not trust her either – please let me finish!” she urged, placing her fingers on Harry’s lips as he flushed to protest. “Hermione is an intelligent witch, that’s for sure, but so are many other former students, and her blood status, while not making her any less magical, does give her a disadvantage over… say, myself?”

Harry stared, at the witch, shocked.

“What?” he asked over her hand.

“I can’t talk for all muggleborns and halfbloods, of course,” Luna continued. “But I know I was raised from birth to know one day Draco could become my king, and studied accordingly what would be expected of me if such thing were to happen. To adapt to the old ways of the crown is instinctual to me because I’ve known the ways since I was a child. I listened to the old tales of Queen Juneaux in the wars and how Prince Tarquin signed peace with the Goblins.”

“But…”

“What I’m trying to say, Harry,” Luna interrupted gently. “Is that if His Highness asks me to draft an astral chart to predict the next planetary summit, I will not stop to question his motives or research what he might actually need it for. I know that he has become part of the land and therefore cannot harm another magical being, so I trust him and I’m not sure Hermione would do the same.”

Harry opened his mouth as soon as Luna removed her hand, ready to defend his best friend against her arguments.

But he found himself pausing in thought.

Hermione was smart, and her encyclopedic knowledge of everything magical rivaled even Professor Dumbledore’s, yes, but he could still remember her short-lived venture with S.P.E.W. and how the House Elves of all corners of the country had to stage a revolt in order to stop her and then patiently explain to her that she was practically asking them to die by severing their ties to the families they served.

Even to this day he still doubted she had been all convinced by their fairly logical explanation of magical flows and control.

If he placed himself on Malfoy’s shoes, then, and seeing already how the Ministry had forced their way into his home seconds after Malfoy had taken his place – and saved Teddy in the process, he reminded himself – would the blond really trust Hermione not to waste precious seconds questioning his instructions if the need arose.

Could Harry trust her with it?

He shook his head.

“He could have told me that,” he said sullenly, feeling, more than seeing, Luna laugh at his side.

“You are rather hard to stop when you are storming out of the house, Harry,” she said softly, her smile full. “And from what I saw back inside the house, Draco is already beating himself up for acting so rashly. He is still adapting, I think, just like you and me.”

The young man sighed once more, feeling his muscles relax.

“Then I guess I should go inside and apologize,” he said, standing and helping Luna to her feet as well. “I’m sure ‘ _His Highness’_ will have a few words for me.”

“That is something you can count on,” Luna nodded, dusting her floral skirt with careless hands.

Harry sighed, preparing himself for the tongue lashing that he knew he had earned this time – and remembering how Malfoy had already informed him he was Snape’s most apt pupil – as he reached to push the door open with a hand, instantly peering into the house and taking a step back when he found himself face to face with Pansy Parkinson.

“Potter?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in distaste. “Why am I not surprised he chose you? Of course The Boy Who Lived would be also chosen as the Knight of the Crown.”

“Hello, Parkinson,” Luna greeted with a smile.

“Lovegood,” Parkinson nodded at her, shaking her head. “At least I won’t have to tutor the Knight-who-lived since you are here. Our little Prince is making all the right choices, I see.”

“Apparently,” Luna agreed, shaking hands with the other witch. Much to Harry’s surprise. He had never known Luna and Pansy were on speaking terms.

Then again, to Harry, Luna was just Luna with her imaginary animals and oblivious nature and Pansy was Malfoy’s ex-girlfriend and while not a death eater, a dark supporter at the very least.

Not much to go on.

“And where is that brat Prince of ours?” Pansy continued, looking around the garden with a bored air Harry had come to associate with her from their school years. “I am rather offended he was not there to greet me at arrival. We haven’t seen eachother for years.”

Harry and Luna frowned.

“He was by the fireplace when I arrived myself,” Luna said, her smile falling.

“And he never came out of the house….” Harry added, his hand instantly reaching for his wand.

Pansy’s face lost all color.

“There was no fire on the fireplace when I apparated in,” she whispered, her hands covering her mouth in shock. “Oh Merlin.”

Luna brought her hands to her chest, her congenial nature dissipating.

“What about Ted? Was he still in the chair?” she asked. Pansy nodded.

“If you mean the child, yes, he’s still sleeping.”

“Which means Malfoy either left on his own,” Harry said, feeling cold dread settle at the bottom of his stomach.

“Draco would not leave without telling anyone, he knows the risks better than anyone!” Pansy cried.

“But he is not in the house, we would still feel his magic close-by,” Luna reasoned.

“Then we have to assume he did not leave by his own will,” Harry finished for them, his fist tightening until the wood of his wand creaked in protest.


	4. Chapter 4

_Pansy had always known Draco was different. Even before her parents had groveled and almost sullied themselves over Mr. Malfoy, she had known that blond little boy calmly sitting by the ducklings' pond, hand idly playing with the water, was someone she would follow blindly for the rest of her life._

_"Hello, I'm Draco," he had greeted, his smile as blinding as the summer sun._

_"Pansy," she replied, feeling unfit and weird to be in his presence._

_"Nice to meet you, Pansy!" Draco had beamed, gently holding her hand in his own._

_It was smaller than hers, paler. Infinitely more precious._

_"He's a star," Gregory whispered in her ear one day. "He told me he is the Draconis star."_

_"Makes sense, all things considered," Vince nodded, his chubby cheeks preventing him from imitating his father's stern expression. "No one can be that blond and that bright, other than a star."_

_Pansy had no heart to tell them Draco had, in all probability, told them he was named after a star. Not that he actually was one._

_So she left them to their fantasies even as they grew older and wiser. As she stood witness of Draco's engagement with Daphne's baby sister and ignored the way Greg's hand tightened on her shoulder and the shudder that seemed to consume him whole as they watched._

_Together they grew, orbiting around their little star, their own pale sun, and jealously guarded him from those who wished him harm._

_They kept him from a dark eyed boy who would constantly chase Draco through the gardens, declaring himself the one true Knight and they taught their prince to keep a straight, if altive face when older suitors for the title of Protector of the Land reared their greedy eyes and tried to approach him._

_"You can't show yourself open to anyone!" Pansy had hissed at him as she dragged him away from his over-zealous wannabe-knight._

_"But these are the people of the land!" Draco protested with a stubborn purse of his lips._

_"They are thieves and fiends who want to take advantage of you!" she replied, eyes narrowing. "They are trying to manipulate your affections! Sway your fancy!"_

_Draco had stared at her with his wide silver eyes and Pansy instantly knew that his heart would be his undoing._

_So she talked to the Prince Heir himself, begging him to teach caution to his trusting son._

_"Just wait until Harry Potter returns to the Wizarding World," Greg assured them all with eyes full of certainty. "He is The Boy Who Lived and he's the most suited to be Draco's Knight."_

_Vince nodded his agreement, his own posture strengthening._

_"We will be His Highness' knights until then."_

_Draco had nodded at them, his own face unsure and nervous and Pansy understood him a little. She knew her friend was reluctant of the devotion he inspired in them all, of the position they were so sure he was going to take one day._

_To them, Draco was one day going to be Prince, but to him, the burden meant only a heavy weight of expectations he wasn't sure he wanted to take._

_And sure enough the years and experience would probe Draco's reservations right as first that mask he had perfected during childhood drove Harry Potter away from his reach and into the one family Lucius had forbidden him from associating with._

_And then The Dark Lord had demonstrated himself quite alive, despite what the Ministry wanted them to believe and the weight and the burden only worsened on those slender shoulders she so ardently wanted to protect._

_"Forget about Harry," the ever present over-zealous knight wannabe told him as they met in a darkened corridor. "He has forfeited his right at your side by rejecting your company, my Prince."_

_Pansy had rolled her eyes then, her arms crossed over her chest._

_"You also avoid His Highness in broad daylight," she had pointed out, nose wrinkling in distaste._

_"I am but a humble servant," the boy hissed. "I'm doing as my liege requested."_

_Vince narrowed his eyes._

_"Draco?" he asked._

_The blond shrugged his shoulders._

_"The Dark Lord is approaching, and all association with me and my family would be dangerous," he said simply. "I don't want any harm to fall on you all."_

_"Too late for us, though," Greg said confidently. "Don't worry, Draco. We are not as powerful as Potter or as smart as Pansy..."_

_"Don't say that, Greg!" Draco interrupted, his eyes wide._

_Vince placed a hand on the blond's arm._

_"We know our limitations, Your Highness," he said gently. "So please, allow us to be your knights in Potter's stead. We will keep you safe until the danger has passed."_

_"Don't," Draco whispered. "Please."_

_"They're right." their hated wannabe said then, serious. "We will set a web on both sides of the conflict. Them on the Dark Side and I on the Light. No matter which side wins you will protected."_

_All three boys nodded their agreement while Pansy held Draco's hand in her own, knowing her Prince would feel this new pressure deep inside himself. Would grow to resent himself for the danger he was exposing his friends to._

....

"These are all the possible culprits I can come up with," Pansy sighed as she allowed herself to fall backwards on the couch, her hands stained black with ink and cramped from writing.

Harry eyed the parchment with determined as his lips slowly mouthed the names on it.

"Minister Shacklebolts would never kidnap Malfoy!" he snapped, glaring at the young woman.

"He could have," Pansy retorted, her own face mirroring Harry's. "If not for the Ministry for his own personal gain. Many would want His Highness to themselves, Potter. The power he will wield once this is over is nothing you and your puny Gryffindor brain can comprehend."

"The Minister is not from a family close in line of succession, is he?" Luna asked just as Harry was about to wrap his hand around Pansy's neck and she was about to claw her nails into his eyes.

The two of them turned to the blonde.

"No," Pansy admitted. "There are at least seven or eight families in succession before Shacklebolts, you are right."

"Which is why I'm the brains on this operation," the other woman beamed absently at them, slowly crossing the Minister's name from the list. "I also think we can count Madame Bones out, she would never hurt His Highness."

"She could hold a grudge against him," Harry said hesitantly. "After what Draco did to Susan during the war."

Pansy nodded.

"Madame Bones could be trying to take Draco out of the picture," she said, more confidently. "Don't cross her out."

"Then again if it was someone out to harm Malfoy, he would have struggled," Harry reasoned, his eyes going back to the fireplace and the sooth encrusted walls. His Auror training taking over. "And the dust is the same as it was. Whoever came over didn't use force."

"Draco did set the wards to only allow in those he authorized," Luna said the, idly crossing names off the list. "So he is with someone he trusts."

Pansy rolled her eyes in dismay.

"You two don't know Draco like I do," she snapped. "He takes his duty really seriously, even more so than he did when we were children. He trusts everyone who comes to him for help, damned Hufflepuff in disguise he is."

Luna and Harry stared at her.

"Malfoy? Trusting?" Harry asked.

"It does sound hard to believe..." Luna added. "Considering his overall attitude in school."

"Blame Potter for that one," Pansy scowled. "He brought Voldemort back to Hogwarts and thus forced Draco to hide his real allegations. Any sign of weakness could be exploited in an environment of war."

"You are telling me he acted like an utter prat because Voldemort was after me?" Harry scowled right back at her.

"His father and him were key players to overturn the Ministry," Pansy hissed. "Thank Morgana that snake-faced bastard had no idea who he had in his grasp. That fucking mudblood."

Harry's eyes narrowed to slits, his hand reaching for his wand even as Luna placed a gentle hand on his arm and delivered a solid smack to the back of the other witch's head.

"What?!" Pansy scowled.

"Please stop using that word or Harry will be forced to hex you, Pansy," she said airily. "And right now we need your expertise far too much."

The dark haired witch sighed, eyeing the tense way Harry held his wand.

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath. "Habit."

"A habit you'll need to get rid of soon enough if you don't want to know why I'm still considered –“

"Oh, shush you," Luna interrupted once more, her hand tightening on his bicep. "We are all tense and on edge, but please remember His Highness is somewhere out there, with someone who took him against his will."

Pansy's shoulders slumped just as Harry lowered his wand.

"You are right, Lovewood," the witch said, her lips pursed. "Sorry, Potter."

Harry nodded at her.

Luna beamed.

"Back to the list, then," she said, hand reaching back to her quill. "We know Draco's kidnapper is a pureblood, at least, someone that within a day knew who to target and how to find His Highness."

Harry leaned forward.

"We know Malfoy followed this person without a struggle so it's someone he knows," he added, lips sinking into his bottom lip. "Could a Slytherin be behind this? Crabe or Goyle's family?"

"Absolutely not!" Pansy shouted ardently. "Vince and Greg were Draco's most loyal! They made sure no one with any sort of bad intentions approached Draco, they took Potter's place during the war and also ran off W-..."

The woman's eyes widened.

"Ran off?" Luna asked, tilting her head.

"Parkinson?" Harry asked when Pansy fell silent.

"Oh, Merlin,"  she whispered, frantically reaching over the dusty table for Draco's golden charms. "Potter I need a drop of your blood."

"What?" Harry asked, leaning over to see what she was doing.

"Your blood!" she repeated, holding the four charms in her hand. "I need you to place a drop of your blood onto the Gryffindor tag.”

Harry looked unsure, his eyes slowly straying to the ruby-incrusted locket on Parkinson’s hand.

Luna nodded at him, her eyes set.

He sighed.

A quick flick of his wand and a drop of blood slowly sliding down his finger probed nothing that he could interpret, that is, until the blood bounced off the tag with an audible cackle of heat and the tag lit up violently.

Luna gasped.

Pansy’s eyes narrowed.

Harry stared in shock.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

“It means you are not the Knight appointed,” Luna explained, her hand perusing the list once more. “Draco did not summon you through court as he did Parkinson and myself, so the court is still looking for the Gryffindor Knight.”

“He said I was his Knight because he came to me first,” Harry said, his frown deepening.

“That damned fool,” Pansy hissed. “I know where he is now, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

With a flick of her wand, Pansy was by the fireplace, her free hand reaching to hold Luna’s just as Luna reached for Harry, pulling him into the green flames as Pansy’s shrill voice called a name Harry hadn’t been sure the witch had known.

………..

"When Harry came to he was standing in the middle of the already familiar sitting room at The Burrow with its faded cushions and old carpets. For once, the smell he had come to associate with the place - the smell of home-cooked meals and wild flowered bouquets - was absent, as was the usual lively chatter that usually filled the house and made its walls cackle back.

Pansy wrinkled her nose at her surroundings, muttering a soft: "Fucking Perverts," before following Luna as the scanned the room.

Harry did the same, having the advantage of being more familiar with the setting, he was quicker to find the slightly opened door a few feet from the kitchen, hidden mostly by a large bookcase he remembered from Percy's old room.

He grabbed his wand tighter, motioning with his free hand to his companions.

Together, all three entered through the secret passage and Harry felt his faith and resolve crumble at his feet.

He had expected Percy, in all honesty. As soon as he realized he was at the Burrow, he had thought Percy's power-hungry tendencies had returned with a vengeance.

Hell, he could have even forgive Bill, as his more animal instincts could have been affected by Draco's silver - moonlight colored - burst of magic.

What he had not expected, however, was to find Malfoy tied up to Mr. Weasley's favorite chair, his eyes downcast and full of pity, as Mrs. Weasley screamed at him at the top of her lungs, her face red and her eyes wild.

"YOU FILTHY LIAR!" she cried. "YOU AND THAT MONSTER FATHER OF YOURS! I WON'T LET YOU TAKE MY CHILDREN FROM ME YOU SCUM!"

Pansy's jaw clenched as she listened in, even Luna's eyes started narrowing as the woman continued her rant.

"YOUR FATHER SWORE TO ME, BRAT! HE SWORE YOU AND YOURS WOULD NEVER ASK ANYTHING FROM US!" Mrs. Weasley said, tears brimming in her eyes. "YOU WERE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT MY FAMILY."

Draco shook his head lightly, his neat ponytail swaying as he moved.

"I didn't cause this Madame Weasley, I can promise you that," he said, his voice small. "I've tried my absolute best to never be too close to your children."

"As if your word was any worth," the old witch spat."Your father swore to me, boy. He swore that the spell would never be used, that none of my children would be asked to submit to your family."

"And we tried our best but someone outside of our reach casted the spell," Draco argued, doing his best to shrug his shoulders despite his restrains. "Believe me Madame, this is no more than a coincidence."

"Then do the right thing!" the witch hissed. "Cease your claim at once, abdicate in favor of the Ministry."

Harry watched in no short awe as Draco's whole frame finally tensed, how his eyes shone and colored and his lips tightened until the sneer of disdain that he had grown accustomed to seeing from his childhood was once more adorning that matured face. 

"No," he said, eyes narrowing. "Never."

"What?" Molly snapped. 

"I might have done that when I returned to Britain, Madame Weasley," the young man replied, his back straight and his pose regal. "But if there is something my Father taught me, was my responsibility to this land and its people come before any other personal feeling I might hold. I can feel them now, feel the way the land feels and how much the magic needs a change. I can feel how strained the pureblooded lines are and how scared the creatures live, the way muggleborns come unprepared and half-bloods are torn between two worlds that should coexist despite their differences..."

Harry's throat moved as he forced himself to swallow, the intensity of Malfoy's gaze, the way his words seemed to resonate with truth and echo over the butterfly of his power inside Harry's core. 

It was magnificent. 

"You...”

"So, I'm afraid I cannot leave this land and its people I adore to continue their lives and possibly spiral into another civil war in the next century when I know I have a chance to help them now, it would feel like spitting over the sacrifices of those who have died believing in me, in what I could do," the blond continued, undaunted. "I am most sorry, Madame Weasley, but I can't, I won't abdicate."

Pansy smiled from her place behind Harry, feeling a tear roll down her cheek.

Their star was shining his brightest. 

Molly took a step back, her eyes wide and lips tight as she realized there was no way she was going to force the young man’s hand on this matter. Her words would never make him see her reason.

Her eyes narrowed.

Her wand raised in the air.

“Cru…” she began, determination set in her every movement.

Everything happened in a second.

Harry sprang to action, Luna cried in surprise and Pansy jumped to protect her Prince’s body with her own.

A pale hand reached to wrap around Molly’s wrist tightly, tightening until the older woman released her wand and it clattered on the ground.

Harry stopped, shocked.

Luna sagged in relief.

Molly’s eyes widened once more.

“Ron…” she whispered and then blinked as she realizes she wasn’t as alone as he had first believed. “Harry.”

“I was napping upstairs when I felt the wards being breached,” Ron Weasley said, his flushed face displaying his concern. “What is happening here? What were you going to do, Mum!”

“You don’t understand, son!” the woman argued, tugging her hand in order to release her son’s hold unsuccessfully. “I need to protect you and your siblings, you can’t be dragged back into a war!”

“A war?” Ron frowned. “What are you talking about!”

“Pansy,” Draco said urgently, his shoulders shaking as he tried to free himself, completely ignoring the drama unfolding for a moment in lieu of making sure his friend was alright.

“I’m fine,” the witch replied, slowly removing her arms from around Draco’s shoulders, her smile small. “Were you hurt?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Draco hissed. “Don’t make me order you.”

The witch shook her head. “Yes, your Highness.”

“Highness?” Ron asked, his eyes widening. “The core I’ve been feeling, the magic that has been brushing with mine… it’s you?”

Draco raised his eyes, locking them with Ron’s.

He nodded.

“As I was trying to explain to your mother before this happened, I didn’t cast the spell myself,” he said, nodding gratefully to Pansy as she started to release his bindings. “And even if I wanted to, I can’t stop it, or my cousin Theodore would be targeted in my stead.”

“But then, your crazy-ass mother decided to kidnap Draco and force him to abdicate,” Pansy growled, her wand cutting the ropes biting into Draco’s wrists and scowling at the angry red marks on his pale skin. “And what were you thinking by going with her, Draco? You were never this stupid before!”

The blond scowled back at her.

“Her claim was legitimate,” he defended himself. “My father swore we would never court the Weasley clan and that the children of Prewett would never come in close contact with the heirs of Malfoy.”

Harry stared at them, confused.

“Children of Prewett?” he asked.

Ron turned to him, his confusion evident in his stare.

“It’s my mum’s maiden name,” he explained, shaking his head. “The rest of the Prewett family died during the war.”

“Which is why your mother was so desperate I kept my Father’s oath,” Draco nodded, his eyes downcast.

Harry approached the blond to help him to his feet, noting how Pansy refused to step from her place between Mrs. Weasley and the young Malfoy Prince – even despite the way Ron continued to hold his mother back – and how Luna was slowly making her way to them, flanking Harry and holding onto Malfoy’s other arm.

He had still a hard time believing Mrs. Weasley had been the one to take Malfoy away, and that she had been desperate enough – capable enough – to attempt to cast a ‘Crucio’ at the blond was mind boggling enough to set him cold.

He could only imagine what Ron was feeling, suddenly fearing for his mother’s safety only to find her about to cast an unforgivable on someone unable to defend themselves. To suddenly realize your mother could be capable of such cruelty.

He sighed when the redhead turned to him.

“You know what’s happening here?” Ron asked him, instantly turning to the one person who had never led him astray as his concept of the world he lived in was about to fall apart.

“Kinda, the part where your family was involved is new to me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders to make himself relax and failing miserably when Ron’s eyes narrowed.

“Harry,” Molly tried again, still struggling against her son’s hold, her hand itching for her wand. “You are a good boy, you would never place Ron or Ginny in danger! Please help me make sure they are not dragged into this!”

“Mrs. Weasley,” he said, pained.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Pansy scowled, waving her wand and binding the struggling older witch to the same chair Draco had once been held in, her eyes narrowed in distaste. “And be thankful I don’t do worse, traitor.”

“Hey!” Ron protested, moving to intervene, only to be stopped by Luna’s hand on his arm.

“You are a wizard that values truth and honor among all,” she said evenly, her gaze clear. “Then allow me to explain this situation to you before you allow your temper to blind your judgment.”

“Ron, don’t!” Molly cried. “Please.”

The redhead turned to Harry, searching an answer in him the other man knew he couldn’t give.

He turned away.

Something cold and repressed settled on Ron’s face, something dreadful and fierce.

“You have five minutes,” he hissed, his wand held tightly in his hands. “And I want the words from Malfoy. If I believe the little rat did something so help me Merlin I’ll-“

“Very well,” Draco replied, stepping forward before Pansy and Luna could stop him, taking his arm from Harry’s support and weakly standing on his own.

Ron locked their gazes.

“That thing against my core is your magic, isn’t it? You are the Prince that magic wants to rule instead of the Ministry,” he said, eyeing the blond from head to toe.

Draco nodded.

“I did not cast the spell of succession, though,” the blond repeated. “It was mostly coincidence I came back to Britain when I did, but the spell had been active before my arrival.”

The redhead’s eyes widened.

“Is that why Teddy was sick, Harry?” he asked, turning to his best friend. “Because he’s Malfoy’s only living relative?”

Harry nodded.

“Malfoy came to my door and told me the spell was taxing Teddy’s core,” he explained. “He took over the spell and released the strain on Teddy.”

Ron turned to Malfoy once more.

“Why the Prewetts then,” he asked. “Your closest other relative is Neville.”

Draco nodded his head.

“The Prewetts were originally the Knight Clan of the Kingdom,” he whispered. “All knights of the realm, all protectors and soldiers were born Prewett for as long as the monarchy ruled.”

Harry felt a small tinge of relief as he could easily see the pieces of the puzzle fitting together inside his best friend’s brilliant mind, and yeah, Ron would never be as clever as Hermione, but in Harry’s humble opinion he was far from stupid and always reliable with logic.

“So, if the spell was casted, and you were the Prince, it would only be logical that a child of Prewett would become your Knight,” Ron said finally, his scowl deepening when the blond nodded.

“When I was a child I was approached by one of your elder brothers,” he explained. “He said he had heard the whispers of discontent in the Ministry and that the age of the Kings was coming fast, he wanted to take his place as my Knight and for us to grow together, but when your parents and mine refused, he grew… dissatisfied. Last I heard of him, he had abandoned the country and is now a Romanian citizen.”

Ron’s and Harry’s eyes widened.

“Charlie?” the redhead asked, taking a step back. “Charlie was to be your Knight?”

“The firstborn in any clan cannot be asked to go to war, as he is the head of the family and expected to continue the blood line,” Draco explained. “It is only logical for the second son to be the one.”

“Charlie didn’t understand what a war meant, he was a child and you! You and your magic turned him against us!” Molly hissed from her chair. “He believed those fairy tales of adventures and riches and he grew apart from us!”

The blond winced.

“After a while, my Father and Mr. Weasley started fearing your brother could cast the spell himself in his naiveté, so the two families made an oath of never crossing paths, never engaging eachother,” he explained, taking a deep breath. “So none of you would feel compelled to come to my side if the spell was indeed enacted.”

“And you broke your word!” Molly sobbed. “You still took my boy away from us and now you want to take another! How can you and your family be so cruel!”

Draco lowered his head, and Harry could finally see how Mrs. Weasley had dragged him out without leaving any sign of struggle in their safehouse.

Despite what any of them might have believed in the past, Malfoy did not want his title or his responsibility. The sole thought of the consequences of his actions was almost physically painful for him – and Harry couldn’t blame him, knowing how his parents had died to keep him safe, he could relate – and therefore, it was easy to believe the blond had followed the older witch on his own will out of guilt and obligation rather than by force.

He scowled.

“Malfoy never broke his oath,” he interrupted, his shoulders squaring and his jaw tightening. “He came to me when he needed a Knight and he never even mentioned your children, Mrs. Weasley, he was doing his best until you interfered.”

Molly’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “You can’t go to him too, you are part of our family! He can’t have you too!”

Harry blinked at her.

“Wha-“

“So this all happened because you wanted to shy away from a duty set upon us generation after generation ago?” Ron asked, finally pulling the attention of those present to himself.

Molly gapped.

“Ron, you don’t understand!” she tried to plead.

“I don’t understand what, Mum? War? Duty?” he hissed. “The fact that you were about to torture a wandless wizard because you didn’t want to believe he could do the right thing, even if he was doing it already?”

“Ron, please,” Molly whispered, knowing her son’s temper was set against her.

It was too late, however.

With a flick of his wand and a set determination to his movement, Ronald Weasley grasped Draco Malfoy’s hand in his own – definitely not noticing how pale his hands were, how small compared to his own, that would come later – and locked their gazes.

“My family has grieved you in ways I am most ashamed to contemplate, Your Highness,” he said, his brows furrowing. “I can only offer my most sincere apologies and use my own self as compensation for my mother’s mistake.”

Without even pausing to gauge Malfoy’s reaction or the horrified paleness that was slowly setting on his mother’s face, the redhead fell to his knees before the blond prince, his forehead lowering to the man’s pale fingers.

“Weasley…” Draco whispered, shocked.

“RON! DON’T!” Molly cried, struggling.

Ron swallowed, closing his eyes.

“As the ancient contracts that were forged centuries ago between your blood and mine, I swear I shall follow you on this quest as the humble knight you so deserve, My Prince,” he continued, wondering whether he had heard the rote before in life – from Charlie, from his father, from Bill – or if it was magic itself forcing his lips to act as punishment. Idly, he realized he didn’t care. “From now on my life is yours to command, for I will be your sword and your shield, so mote it be.”

Harry noticed the way Luna relaxed and how Pansy’s smile turned wicked and vindictive.

How resignation filled Malfoy’s silver eyes and light enveloped his hand to form a gold and red ring of pure energy that slowly seeped into his skin.

“So mote it be,” he whispered back, his own head lowering in respectful acknowledgement. “Welcome to my court, Knight Protector.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

The moment they all arrived back to Spinner's End, Ron grabbed a hold of Malfoy's hand, his face grim, and quietly dragged him into another room where privacy wards were instantly raised.

They didn't resurface until the following morning - and not before Pansy threatened to bring down the house should Ron not release their Prince for his breakfast - and Harry could easily tell something was changed about hid best and oldest friend, something deep and stormy now swirled in his usually bright blue eyes and a new sort of heaviness seemed to have settled onto his shoulders that made Harry curse the way things had developed so far.

Things had not improved after that when the newly-minted court had sat down for breakfast, only to find Percy Weasley sitting at the table with Malfoy. A cup of tea held between his hands and a faint dusting of pink coloring his freckled cheeks.

"Good Morning," Malfoy greeted calmly as he also took a sip of his tea, his face betraying nothing but tranquility. "Your brother is here to see you, Ronald."

Pansy's hands clenched into fists at the same as Luna reached for her wand and Harry's whole body tensed.

"Step away, Percy," Ron said, his voice rough. "You are too close."

Malfoy tensed, his hand reaching and his lips parting to reprimand his knight, but the older redhead was instantly placing a placating hand on the Prince's shoulder, his smile small and bitter.

"It's okay, Your Highness," he said softly. "The magic of Ron's oath is quite strong. I understand."

Harry could tell such declaration made Malfoy openly uncomfortable.

Luna sighed.

"Your Highness, maybe we can have breakfast elsewhere?" she asked, pocketing her wand. "I think I saw a gazebo in the property."

The blond nodded at her, slowly standing.

"Knowing Severus he most likely used it to grow potion ingredients," he muttered, shaking his head. "But let's check it out nonetheless."

"Your Highness," Percy called, his whole posture sheepishly subdued. "Would it be okay if Harry stayed with us as well? He is part of our family and well..."

Pansy and Luna instantly looked at eachother, the thought of them being the only protection Malfoy would have, even if they were still inside the blood wards, was something they definitely were not about to take.

Malfoy nodded.

“Please come to see us when you three are done,” he whispered, his voice a soft breath as he made his way towards the back door, his smile small and harmless, resigned.

Harry watched his back until he disappeared from sight.

Ron mirrored his posture.

Percy sighed at them, slowly reaching for two more cups of tea for them.

“Sit, you two… I need to be back home as soon as possible,” he said, shaking his head.

Harry blinked at him, slowly taking a seat, at the same time as Ron’s scowl deepened.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “I didn’t think Mum would want to…”

“She didn’t,” Percy acknowledged. “But Dad put his foot down, the whole family was torn at first, as you can imagine.”

Ron’s gaze lowered.

“I did the right thing,” he said, more to himself than to his brother.

“I know, and so does Dad,” Percy said, his own eyes going from his family to his tea. “That’s why I came. Dad said you two would have questions and I am here to answer to them.”

“His Highness told me all when we came back,” Ron snapped, the curl of his mouth stubborn. Harry could tell he was hurt by his family, by the fact his brother was here but not his father, that it was clear his mother had yet to see the error of her ways.

“He told you his side of the story,” the older man said, nodding. “But Dad reckons he can only tell what he remembers himself and the Prince was three years old when it all happened. For us, the whole thing was rather different.”

Ron’s eyes widened.

Percy looked at him with a bitter purse of his mouth.

“I was only eight years old myself, but such things are hard to forget.”

“Things…” Harry asked, his own throat feeling constricted as he watched Percy shake his head.

“That one time your older brother, your hero, was almost sent to Azkaban, of course,” the older man replied.

Harry and Ron snapped their gazes back to him.

“What?” Harry said, shocked.

“Can’t be…” Ron whispered at the same time.

“I’m not trying to defend what happened, but you know the feeling, Ron, I’m sure,” Percy continued. “Growing up in a loving household where everyone was the same, everyone got the same amount of attention and warmth, only to realize we would all be eventually split and left behind by Bill’s radiance.”

“Bill?” Harry asked, confused. “What does he have to do with this?”

It was Ron who spoke then.

“He’s first born,” he said. “Even if we are all loved equally, in the end he is the one who will inherit the land and the magic, he will be the one to lead the family as a patriarch.”

Percy nodded.

“You have to understand, Harry. It’s the way inheritance magic works in our world,” he explained. “Once a head of house dies, his or her ancient magic and land splits evenly in two. One half goes to the first born, who then becomes the head of the family. And the rest is once again split evenly between all the other children.”

Ron swallowed, nodding along.

“Logically we know Bill would never leave us destitute, he is a great man and a loving brother,” he told Harry, his own eyes dim. “But try telling that to a five year old, a six year old who has just realized that while his or her parents don’t love a child more than the other, the family magic does.”

“It’s the reason why most pureblood families these days don’t have more than two children,” Percy sighed. “Helps prevent the future heartbreak.”

Harry swallowed.

He had never contemplated such things, being an only child and an orphan to boot. He had assumed that the moment he had children of his own things would eventually be sorted but…

He curled his lips.

“What does this have to do with Malfoy,” he asked, his voice cold.

Percy and Ron looked at eachother.

“It all comes down to Charlie, really, and the day he realized Bill was the first born and with every new brother or sister his parents gave him, his portion of the inheritance, his portion of the land’s warm magic was diminished,” the eldest said. “Charlie became a little bitter, as predicted, and he poured all his effort into becoming something more, something unique. Looking for that one thing that Percy couldn’t do, reading every single piece of family history he could get his hands on in hopes there was a skill in our blood that would set him apart.”

“And I’m guessing he found the Oath the Prewetts and the Malfoys had?” Harry asked, feeling enraptured by the tale his best friend’s brother was spinning before him.

“That he did. I don’t think I had seen him happier before that day, or since, to suddenly realize there was a reason for your own birth, that you were to become the one knight to protect the future king. I can only imagine what he must have felt the moment the old family accounts fell into his hands,” Percy nodded. “He started going out with Dad all the time to the Ministry, insisting we family went to functions, he started training and exercising, studying Bill’s Hogwarts books until he knew them by heart.”

“And then one day he met His Highness,” Ron surmised. “The Prince said he didn’t remember much, but he knew that at some point he and Charlie had stayed together in a room and they played games.”

Harry blinked when Percy’s face paled considerably, his mouth curling grimly.

“His Highness was three at the time, so I am not surprised that’s the only thing he remembers,” the older redhead said, sighing.

“What happened then…” Harry prompted, feeling alienated by the secrecy, something bitter and heavy curling inside of him at the fact that Ron and Percy seemed to know much more, far more than he did.

“Charlie…” Percy hesitated. “He abducted His Highness from a Ministry function both of our families attended and disappeared for two days with him.”

Ron gapped, his eyes wide.

Harry instantly turned in his seat, instinctively following the pull in his magic so his eyes could focus on the garden where Malfoy was, feeling he needed to know the other man was okay in order to live.

“That’s… impossible,” Ron whispered. “How…”

“I’m not sure, brother, I was only eight years old myself,” Percy said. “I only remember Bill was pulled from school for a week and Mom cried until Aurors dragged Charlie back home in chains. It was a rather traumatic experience.”

“And then Dad and His Majesty made the oath to keep our families apart?” Ron asked, leaning forward.

“It was either that or have a ten year old face Azkaban,” Percy said. “It was obvious Mr. Malfoy didn’t want to press charges but the Ministry got involved and in the end it was best to keep both families apart.”

And saying so, Percy turned to the window where Harry could easily see Malfoy and the girls. His face instantly softened from all stress as he managed to catch a glimpse of the blond on the grass.

Harry and Ron followed his line of sight, both feeling the pull of magic almost forcing their actions.

The Prince sitting there on the garden by the gazebo, his eyes set in concentration as he circled the air around a small blue flower bud with his fingers yet did not touch the plant itself, his lips moved as he was probably explaining his actions to a cautious looking Pansy and a concerned Luna, as they eyed his muddied knees and stained shirt, how the sun made his pale hair glint and his cheeks flush with color.

Harry thought he would not be able to look away for the life of him, and the idea half comforted him and half frightened him.

The older redhead sighed then, his face showing the true struggle of will it took for him to turn away.

“I need to go now, before I do something I regret,” he muttered to himself, fingers tight against the palm of his hand.

“Something you regret?” Ron asked, his eyes wide.

“You pledged, Ron,” Percy explained. “You completed the Oath of our blood and therefore the magic settled on you. But Harry can feel it, can’t you?”

Both redheads turned to stare at the other man.

Harry stared back, confused.

“I…”

Percy allowed himself a rueful snort.

“Harry and I and many people in our land have accepted the Prince and his core, we feel it inside of us,” he decided to explain, frowning when the words failed him. “It’s beautiful.”

“His Highness’ magic is beautiful, I know,” Ron scowled, his hand feeling naked an useless without his wand all of a sudden. “What does it have to do with-“

“The Prince is a beautiful young man, yes,” his older brother interrupted. “And I now feel a direct connection to his intentions. He loves me, Ron. I feel the love he feels for me and for all of our kind.”

The older man shook his head.

“I want to duel you, as your brother. I want to challenge your claim as the Knight protector and take your place, I want this love all to myself,” he continued, struggling to turn from the image of the blond prince in the garden, completely unaware of their turmoil. “It’s the reason Dad sent me instead of George, who would have been more welcomed among you. I have a wife of my own and she is expecting our child. My loyalty is split between my Prince and my own family and that’s keeping me neutral.”

Ron felt his shoulders sag as he understood.

Harry slowly lost color.

“And I…” he asked.

“You accepted His Highness’ magic and decided to protect him, yet you weren’t summoned like Miss Parkinson and Miss Lovewood, and you didn’t pledge your allegiance like Ron, Harry,” Percy explained. “For all intents and purposes you should be a knight, but you are not, so the unmade pledge is affecting you in ways that are different from everyone else. You are a master-less Knight in front of a Prince that needs your protection.”

“A Master-less… you mean,” Harry gapped, slowly shaking his head.

“Ron,” Percy asked. “Please say His Highness’ name.”

Ron blinked.

“His name? Dra…” he stopped, his eyes widening. “His name is Ma…. Ma… My Prince.”

Harry stared, shocked.

Percy shook his head.

“I can’t,” Ron said in surprise. “I can’t say his name.”

“Because to you, he is your prince, and not an individual,” his older brother said. “He has not given you permission to utter his name and therefore, you can’t overstep your boundaries.”

Harry’s hands curled around his wand, his teeth bared.

“That little…”

“It’s not his fault!” Ron interrupted, his hand tight against his best friend’s wrist, the shock of his actions evident in his eyes. “I know he is not at fault.”

The older redhead stared at them both.

“He is most likely still ignorant of the extent of his power over you, brother,” he agreed. “Had things gone according to tradition, His Highness would have entered training with his father at the age of fifteen. All things considered, I guess the war prevented that training.”

Ron turned enraged blue eyes to his older brother.

“Why did you test us then, if you knew?” he asked.

Percy shrugged his shoulders.

“Because I’m leaving for Romania now, the whole family is and…” he hesitated. “I guess I wanted you two to understand the severity of the situation before I do. This is not going to be easy on either of you. Harry needs to settle in place if he is to remain by His Highness’ side and you need to understand that the Prince you have allied yourself with is fallible. It’s the only thing I can do for you both.”

Harry felt himself sag, as if all strength was sucked out of him.

Ron nodded, his hand still holding Harry’s arm.

“Thank you, Percy,” he whispered. “Please tell Charlie that… I’m sorry. And I swear I’ll protect His Highness as he would have done.”

The other redhead nodded, his smile bitter.

“Please be aware he might never forgive you,” he warned. “We’ll keep an eye on him until the matter is settled but try to steer clear of him for a few years anyways.”

Both young men watched as Percy Weasley smiled at them one last time before walking purposeful to the fireplace, only stopping to gaze longingly at the gardens for a few seconds before disappearing into the flames.

Ron let himself fall into the couch at the same time as Harry leaned against the windowsill.

Silent for a few moments.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked his friend and watched as the red haired man shook his head.

“I need to train His Highness, of course,” he replied, slowly pocketing his wand. “But I’m sure it’ll hurt him and I feel hesitant.”

Blue eyes met green.

“You?”

Harry curled his mouth, startled into turning towards the garden once more when the morning air carried the bell-like chimes of Draco’s laughter to them.

The two men turned then and stared as the blond prince slowly stroked the blue bud into blooming and a hideous flower with razor sharp teeth snapped at his fingers, much to Pansy’s disgust and Luna’s surprise.

Harry felt the magic inside his core warm up and shiver in delight, he felt himself yearn for those slender, pale fingers and for the laughter leaving those lips to be his own.

He shut his eyes tight.

“I don’t know…”


End file.
